Tom Wolfe Gets Back to Blood is a film about Tom Wolfe’s study of the Magic City. I learned a great deal about his nature for retaining the social environment of people. While he walked around Miami scoping, telescoping, noting, writing, and interacting with different people, you felt as if you were walking with this man in the white suit.

As a Miamian I could truly appreciate the footage of the great author ambling through the city with respect to our culture.

An interview from the film lets us know that Tom Wolfe has a liberty to make a choice about his overview of the city. He can write about daily living and giving that can be beautiful and strange. Or dump our grand portrait into the Everglades, recover it, place it in the Art Deco District and drag it over a causeway hoping it is not devoured before it reaches downtown.

This documentary shows a man who was looking to script the normal urban sprawl that big cities maintain, and offer the reader Miami’s perspective of a Caribbean crawl. Highlighting our large immigrant population, tropical landscape; and architecture and Cuban politics. A multicultural city that is very much Americana while retaining the blood lines of their countries.

“Estella looked out the window of her Miami apartment at the folding blue clouds blocking the evening’s sunset. She called her boyfriend Thelonious about an event later in the evening: “What time are leaving tonight? The weather is supposed to be worse later.”

“I’m not sure, probably around nine or nine-thirty,” Thelonious responded.

“Why so late?” Estella asked.

‘Why so late’ was a hopeful extension to tell Estella that he was not going to this event. He paused and paced in his Miami Beach apartment before she asked if he was still on the line.

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m just a distracted,” Thelonious responded.

“I know you’re nervous about the open mic night, but don’t be. I’ll be there supporting you like always,” Estella said as she heard the taps of rain on the sliding glass door.

“Certainly, I know that. Well, I need to get a few things ready then I’ll be by to pick you up, OK?” Thelonious said.

“Leave now before the storm hits. We can chill here then take a cab to the pub. Call me when you’re in the parking lot, then I’ll unlock the door.

Thelonious said good-bye, looked around the room for excuses to delay his drive, and then grabbed his keys. As he locked the door, the storm opened up and unleashed its tropical tempest. Winds in all directions pushed him back to his screen door that was not secure. “Is this a message that I should stay home,” he thought, but it wasn’t and he knew it.

Thelonious’s timeline that trapped his fear of public speaking, specifically reciting poetry that most people considered worthy which included his supporting girlfriend who always shot from the hip about her honesty, began when he was a boy in elementary school.

His fifth-grade music teacher assigned each student to perform a song in front of the class. Thelonious was nervous like most kids, but his shaky voice equaled his shaky hands and some kids noticed and laughed before the music teach told them to stop. In junior high, there would be not protection from his English teacher who made him complete a presentation with utter disregard to a few students in the back who disrespected him by coughing out words like ‘Loser’ and ‘Lame.’ By the time he reached his senior year in high school, his poetry had developed and he was encouraged by Estella, who was a friend, to join the writer’s group after school. Even with like-minded peers, he could not overcome the pressure and never stood to read his poems. After he finished college he reunited with Estella at a restaurant on the beach where she was working part-time as a waitress on the weekends. Soon they became a couple and she began to read his poetry. The encouragement to recite only recoiled his past and she knew it.

Thelonious entered his car, partially soaked, but determined to drive through the storm to Estella’s apartment. He was half-way there as doubt and downpour alike saturated his spirit. Before the exit to Estella’s, he noticed orange blinking lights from a car that was on the side of road. He pulled off to the shoulder, got out in the rain, and met a woman next to a spare tire who was searching with the flashlight from her cell phone in her trunk.

“Excuse me,” Thelonious said as he stood in front his car with the reflections of headlights and blinking emergency lights from his car, “may I help?”

“I can’t find… First of all, thank you for stopping,” she said.

“You’re welcome, what are you looking for?” Thelonious asked.

“I can’t find the jack and I never looked after I purchased the car if I had one. Now I have a flat and I’m screwed,” she said with frustration.

“Thank you so much,” she said as he went toward his trunk and she partially closed hers then opened the back door of her car.

The storm began to lighten and the lay of the lowly clouds made for an eerie break from the glow of traffic in the foreground and downtown Miami in the background. He went to the side of the car, placed the jack to lift it, and began to change the tire when the woman stood behind him with an umbrella over her and her young son.

“This is my son Brian. Say hello to…. I’m sorry I didn’t get your name, I apologize. My name is Monique and yours?”

“My name is Thelonious, nice to meet you both.”

“We are on our way to Brian’s school for his chorus assembly tonight,” Monique said.

“We don’t have to go. In fact, this is probably a sign that we should not go,” Brian said.

“A sign? What makes you think this is a sign? Why am I even asking you? We are going and that’s that,” Monique said.

“Sir, don’t you believe signs?” Brian asked.

“Brain, let him be. He is helping us and you’re distracting him,” Monique said.

“No, I’m fine. Just a two more bolts and I’ll be ready for the spare,” Thelonious said.

“Brian doesn’t like to be in front of people,” Monique said.

“Why you gonna tell him that?” Brian asked.

It had occurred to Thelonious as he placed the spare on the lug studs that he shared the fear of the boy, that Brian was a reflection of him.

Thelonious secured the lug nuts then slowly let the car down with the jack. Monique began to thank him while he cleaned his hands with a wet towel that was in a puddle. Then she stopped and walked to the trunk and handed him a dry towel. He placed the old tire in the trunk and looked at Brian who was fidgeting with his black tie.

“Brian, I have a fear of being in front of people as well,” Thelonious said.

“You see momma, it’s a sign,” Brian told her as he shrugged her pant leg.

“Brian, that’s enough of the signs already. Thank you so much, I have some cash—”

“No thank you Monique, I’m glad I could help. Brian, it was a pleasure to meet you. I want you to know that it is OK to be scared, but don’t let that stop you. Just get up on that stage and sing,” Thelonious said as he folded the towel and placed it back in her trunk before closing it.

“You are kind with your words of wisdom, I’m sure he appreciates it,” Monique said then looked down at Brian.

She walked Brian to the back door, closed it then walked back to Thelonious who was sitting in his car: “That means a lot to me for you to offer Brian encouragement. I appreciate your honesty as well.”

“I think his honesty helped me. I should be thanking you. I guess I was meant to stop and help,” Thelonious said.

“Well, I didn’t want to agree with him that it was a sign for us to meet you because he was placing his honest fear first. However, he is right and I don’t think it was by chance that you of all people stopped to assist us. Thanks again,” Monique said.

Thelonious, who had left his cell phone in the car, looked down to see five missed calls from Estella. He called and she picked up the phone with urgency to say, “Where are you?”

“I’m fine. I stopped to help a family with a flat tire. I’ll be there soon,” Thelonious said.

When he arrived, he told Estella about the changing of the tire, the changing of his perspective, and the timing of the experience. She said it must have been a sign. He smiled, clapped his hands, and gave her a big hug.

“If you are looking for a good read, you won’t go wrong with A to P. I look forward to the next novel from Chris Joseph Stancato.”

A to P is A Top Novel

And here is why you need to purchase your Ebook or Paperback:

“I enjoyed this novel. I found the characters to be relatable. It’s set at a nice pace that continues to pick up to make for an exciting climax. An easy read the words and story flows.” Daslickest

“What a wild ride you travel as you read A to P from this up and coming author. This coming of age novel intertwines you into the lives of the two brothers from a small Western Pennsylvania town. Whether it is love, work, family or drugs nothing seems to go right for two long. Just when you begin to lose hope, a ray of sunshine pulls the reader back from the edge of despair. Being from Western Pennsylvania, I enjoyed the mention of names and places from my past that the author incorporated the story. If you are looking for a good read, you won’t go wrong with A to P. I look forward to the next novel from Chris Joseph Stancato.” R. Jenkins

“Amazing book especially if from Miami will be reading again.” M. Garnett

“The author provided insight into two brothers with a totally different way of approaching life but still basically looking for the same things. Together they may have achieved a better outcome but that is not how life really works.” NLM

“It is entertaining. Overall, it’s an interesting tale that will keep you turning the pages.” Kindle Customer

]]>http://orangepostman.com/2017/12/a-to-p-book-reviews-are-in/feed/01267Mr. Dynamite: The Rise of James Brownhttp://orangepostman.com/2017/12/mr-dynamite-the-rise-of-james-brown/
http://orangepostman.com/2017/12/mr-dynamite-the-rise-of-james-brown/#respondThu, 28 Dec 2017 02:01:27 +0000http://orangepostman.com/?p=1265Continue reading Mr. Dynamite: The Rise of James Brown→]]>Say It Loud! I’m Black and I’m Proud! Mr. Dynamite: The Rise of James Brown Image by Netflix USA

Soul Music as defined by James Brown: “Can’t… Can’t makes you a soul singer.”

This documentary of the ‘Hardest working man in show business’ broadens the definition of Brown as a soul singer and his separation of ‘show’ and ‘business.’ Mr. Dynamite: The Rise of James Brown is a 2014 film that begins when he was a still-born and ends as the influence of his career and life are interwoven in rap and hip hop.

James went to prison at age 15 for eight years for stealing clothes from a car. Prior to time served in jail, he was living with his aunt in Augusta, GA who owned a brothel. You sense from the interviews in the documentary that time served probably began after not having his parents during those years in Augusta. When he was paroled he lived with Bobby Byrd who had a band called The Famous Flames. This was the time when the singing and dancing for the soldiers at his aunt’s brothel along with the time served, placed him in the band as the inevitable leader. “The porch was full of people,” Byrd recalled of the music being performed with James Brown.

Segregation led to James Brown and The Famous Flames to play the Chitlin’ Circuit with other black performers. The band, like many bands, groups, and performers would “Arrive in New York City to show off what they had been honing on the road,” said the musician and author Michele Veal.

By the time Brown completed his cast as a showman he was influenced by Louis Jordan, Little Richard, Duke Ellington, and famed wrestler, Gorgeous George for which he imitated the cape being placed over his shoulders as if to rise like the Phoenix and belt out another performance.

We learn from the interviews that Brown was conservative in 1968, but backed the Democratic nominee, Hubert Humphrey for President. When Humphry lost, he felt like the President-elect, Richard Nixon, would champion his cause in the black community for entrepreneurship.

Politically he was pushed aside by Nixon and some of the black community when change did not happen. Yet James Brown was not deterred in his conviction of protesters at his concerts who called him a sell-out. He strongly believed that every black man could lift himself out of poverty and be successful, but Michele Veal said, “Not everyone else is that talented, or that ruthless, or that driven.”

Chuck D who was eight at the time he was influenced by James Brown said, “I was defining myself to Negro to Colored to Black because of ‘Say it Loud.’”

The Reverend Al Sharpton, who likened James Brown as his father, was 18 when he presented James with an accolade for his social work at a Soul Train show in 1974. Sharpton said he was “The father I never had… We didn’t grown up in the ‘We Shall Overcome’ era, we grew up in I’m black and proud era.”

By the mid-seventies and into the eighties and nineties, James Brown was hot in the DJ community. “Funky Drummer” which failed as a single soared as a sample by the DJ’s and rappers like Chuck D of Public Enemy.

Mr. Dynamite: The Rise of James Brown produced by Mick Jagger and Victoria Pearman with Director Alex Gibney is a superb collection of vintage footage, concerts, and interviews by those who knew him and others who studied. Most importantly, the documentary provides the liner notes of his life. So “Get on Up” and get the funk from this film in your bones for a terrific timeline of James Brown!

I’ve written a compelling story, a novel that is available on Amazon as a paperback or an ebook.
“I sensed their differences when they were younger. One was lively and assertive. The other was serious and timid.” A to P is a drama about two brothers, their conflict, and an engaging timeline.

As the discussion continues in the United States about Freedom and Expression, Catcher in the Rye, like Great Gatsby, Catch-22, Leaves of Grass, and many others have been recognized by the Library of Congress as “Books that shaped America.” Salinger’s books accompanied by Salinger, the documentary, have been reviewed with complete freedom.

J.D. Salinger, the recluse author of Catcher in the Rye is revealed through interviews, footage, stories, and his written words in this captivating documentary. A life chronicled by his published stories in the New Yorker to his books. This attentive timeline reflects profoundly into the years of service during World War II, his family and the Glass Family, and the influence of Hinduism.

SALINGER DOCUMENTARY

We know from the documentary that Salinger was finishing Catcher in the Rye while in the war. It is during this time that he is a witness to the horror of carnage from the Holocaust. The impact of WW II on Salinger’s life would present itself in Nine Stories first story: “A perfect day for Bananafish,” as Seymour, the oldest of the fictitious “Glass Family,” ends his life. “For Esmé—with Love and Squalor” deals with the enormous trauma that soldiers encountered with letters and tender dialogue. Interviewed in Salinger is a WWII veteran who recalls seeing paratroopers descending into his backyard. His story is poignant in two aspects: Again, the trauma and delusional effects throughout the years after the war that impacted soldiers like Salinger. Secondly, that fact that the veteran never told his wife what he expressed in the documentary—it was that type of fear. Each story traverses the next, as this continuum of the effects of loss and relationships concludes with another questionable death in “Teddy.”

SALINGER DOCUMENTARY

JD Salinger’s solitude and sacrifice is examined in his recluse way of living. The popularity of Catcher in the Rye made Salinger a magnet from reporters to literary fans of the book. He stopped publishing after Catcher in the Rye in 1953. Yet the book influenced a generation of kids in the 60’s with its idea of rebellion. To this day the story of Holden Caulfield is fascinating to all who read it.

In Salinger, a terrible side of the story is provided by the facts of three profiled crimes. President Reagan, John Lennon, and TV Actress Rebecca Schaeffer were all shot by men who said they too were influenced by Catcher in the Rye. In Salinger, the statement is raised about how you would feel if the book you wrote provided this type of diabolical outcome.

SALINGER DOCUMENTARY

In an interview with a family friend, who knew his wife and two kids, she said that the family suffered from JD’s failure to be a husband and father. Salinger would spend most of his time in his bunker that was on the same property of his house, but not with the same family. Another family would consume Salinger’s writing: The “Glass Family.” The documentary goes into detail based on the stories published about the seven genius kids. Buddy Glass, the second oldest of the kids, is a prominent character who is either mentioned by name or is a narrator. In Franny and Zooey, Raise High the Roof Beam – Carpenters, and Seymour an Introduction, the documentary explores this family. In great detail these stories grapple with Seymour’s death and how the Glass Family deals with mundane issues in the most complex manner. You come to the conclusion in Salinger that he sacrificed his real family for his fictitious family.

SALINGER DOCUMENTARY

JD Salinger’s Hinduism is observed in the documentary in his character’s unselfish denominators. Aptly put, Salinger himself believed that writing was to give and not receive acclaim. In a conversation with Joyce Maynard, who lived with him when she was 18 years old, she explains a regular day with Salinger: Small meals, meditation, writing, meditation, and a quiet evening perhaps watching a movie or a Lawrence Welk. After less than a year, he tells her to leave. She eventually writes a “tell all” about the recluse Salinger. In Salinger, she talks about an encounter she had with “Jerry,” as she called him, at his house. In the exchange between Joyce and Salinger as told by Joyce, he tells her: “The problem with you, Joyce, you love the world.” Salinger chose to live and write for him and to live without praise.

Salinger is an informative documentary with a meticulous effort about the index of JD Salinger’s life. I’ve read Catcher in the Rye and the other stories that were later published into books, but Salinger culminated my wonder as to the author’s interpretations.

“Remember, all entries must be mailed in before noon on March fifth. Make sure to send one dessert recipe. Then attach a brief bio of yourself, and most importantly, write on the envelope, ‘2017 Battle of the Bakers.’ The three chosen contestants will present their desserts at our St. Patrick’s Day celebration at our Market Square Pavilion. Wow, this should be interesting… the morning show sampling sweet desserts then drinking pitchers of beer with corn beef hash. Whose idea was this? Remember, the winner will represent the city of Pittsburgh in Orlando.”

Leo wrote down the information for the contest then lowered the radio in the kitchen of his house. The prize was for a three-day all-inclusive resort in Orlando with premier pastry chefs from the world-famous Palacio de Pandaria as judges. The winner from the radio station would compete against contestants from around the United States.

Leo knew his grandmother, Blanche, a widower, would have a chance to win with her family favorite chocolate cake. Every time she made this delicious dessert that she called, The Seer Chocolatier, everyone in the family was happy.

Blanche, who only visited Florida once in the 1959, was excited but gave Leo an earful: “What do you mean I have to make it for a competition at a radio station on St. Patty’s Day? Are you insane?” Blanche said.

“I know you will win grandma. You will only bake one day for the contest with two days of lounging at the pool at an all-inclusive,” Leo said.

Blanche participated and won the contest. In June, she was on her way to Orlando to stay at the Rosa-Rosa Resort next to the convention center where the contest would take place the following afternoon.

When the limousine driver arrived at the hotel, Blanche asked the driver if it was the right place. She looked at the brochure twice which showed multiple pools, a golf course, and a restaurant that rotated atop the main building. This is what she saw: one building, six floors high, with a small pool next to the parking lot.

“Yes, this is your destination,” The limousine driver said and she exited the vehicle to enter the hotel lobby.

“Welcome to the Rosa-Rosa Resort,” a young lady named Rene at the front desk said.

“Hello, thank you. I am here, because I won a baking contest!” Blanche said with glee.

“Ahhh the contest,” Rene said.

“I’m here representing Pittsburgh,” Blanche told her.

“Great, here is your packet for the event and I believe the organizer of the event will be in the lobby at six for a meet and greet,” Rene said.

“I have one question Rene,” Blanche asked as she pulled out the brochure.

Blanche stepped off to the side as a young man approached the front desk and asked the same question.

Blanche went to the elevator to find out a sign that said, ‘Out of Order.’ She returned to ask Rene where the other elevator was located.

Rene hesitated then responded, “I apologize for the inconvenience the other elevator is—”

“I know…‘Under Construction,’ Blanche said.

Darren, the young man who was checking in, introduced to himself to Blanche as he noticed her packet: Hello, I am representing Atlanta, where are you from?”

“I am from Pittsburgh,” Blanche said.

“Great, nice to meet you Blanche,” Darren said. “I believe my room is on the second floor as well. I’ll take your bag to the room, no problem.”

Darren was a twenty-three years old, laid back and congenial kid from a culinary school near Atlanta. He thanked Rene, took Blanches’ bag, and led the way to the stairs. After the two flights of stairs Darren realized that their rooms were next to each other. He told Blanche that if she needed anything, to simply call or knock.

Blanche entered the room that could have been the hotel room from 1959. The room was old and dated with a view of a deserted strip mall with heavy orange drapes over the window, and a noisy wall-mounted air conditioning unit.

She rested, or at least attempted to take a nap with the noisy air condition, before the meet and greet in the lobby. She saw Darren chatting with other contestants who wore name tags that included their respective cities. It was obvious to Blanche that the field of contestants was considerably young. The only person who looked as old as her was the event organizer, Diego. Her observation caught Diego’s eye and when Blanche turned to look his way once more, he gave her a big smile and a wink.

Diego stood in the center of the contestants and began to speak about the contest for the following day. He also mentioned that the hotel was doing some remodeling. This drew some laughs and grunts from the contestants. He thanked everyone for their participation in the initial contest and told them to enjoy the evening.

While the contestants were mingling with the pastry chefs, Diego made his way to Blanche who was by the bar. “Señora, mucho gusto,” Diego said as he kissed her on the cheek.

“Hello,” Blanche said as she blushed and stepped back. “I wasn’t expecting such a greeting.”

“This greeting if very common in our culture,” Diego said as he placed his hand on her arm and smiled.

“Aren’t you judging?” Blanche said.

“Not the contest, only you mi amor,” Diego responded and now had both hands on her shoulders.

Blanche sat down at the bar to drink her Shirley Temple. Diego took a seat next to her and ordered a Cuba libre.

“Señora Blanche from Pittsburgh, I must tell you that if the judges voted on the appearance of how the contestants look, then mi amor the rule of perception would make you the winner… without a doubt,” Diego said.

As soon as Blanche finished her drink she excused herself. She told him that her drink and not his company was the night capper. He was not appalled by any means and, as she walked away, told Blanche: “I’ll be waiting mi amour, if not now then later for our drink together.”

Later that night Blanche’s air conditioner broke. She left her hotel room to inform the front desk because not one was answering. They explained that there were no rooms available, but offered to bring a stationary fan. Blanche looked at her watch, it was eight o’clock and she was exhausted. She knew she would probably pass out so she accepted the offer. On her way to the room, she decided to buy a few cold drinks from the vending machine: no bottled water, just sodas. As she approached her door, she heard Darren laughing to the top of his lungs.

She knocked on Darren’s door. He saw who it was and stopped smoking a joint then sprayed cologne in the air. At the door she explained what happened to her air conditioner. He offers to let her in and cool down.

Blanche told Darren about Diego. He paused, for a long minute before she snapped her fingers and laughed at him: “You okay honey?”

“Oh yeah, I’m sorry. You know what I would do?” Darren said then coughed hard.

“What is it?” Blanche asked with a smile.

“I would go to the bar, right? Get your cold water and then…” Darren said then he heard a noise at the door and jumped up.

Blanche was alarmed, but took it in stride because she knew Darren was high.

Darren sat back down and continued, “Then, I would get señor Diego drunk and sleep in his cozy cool air-conditioned room.”

Blanche started to laugh before she wondered about the sacrifice to get water and possibly a bed in Diego’s room. She saw a cooler and asked if he had any cold water to drink since there was as none in the vending machine. In the small cooler, Darren had butter he made to give to his girlfriend, who was also in culinary school and visiting from Tampa the following morning. The butter was mixed with cannabis. He made four individually wrapped sticks and placed them in wax paper marked, “C-Butter”.

“No, I don’t have water, but would you like a stick of butter?” Darren said with a hardy laugh. He nonchalantly opened the cooler and handed her a stick. Blanche laughed as well while she held the butter in her hand. Then he grabbed another stick of butter and laughed louder.

Blanche laughed again but was becoming slightly nauseated by the heavy cologne and not the faint smell of marijuana. She told him that she was going to the bar for her cold glass of water, but no Diego. She placed the butter in her purse and said goodnight.

“Okay, goodnight Blanche,” Darren said. He locked the door, cracked the window and smoked the rest of his joint.

On the way to bar, a maintenance guy passed Blanche with a stationary fan. She told him as he went to the second level, “Turn that fan on, I’ll be back in a few.” Blanche arrived at the bar where there were still a few people. She ordered her glass of water from the bartender and Diego, who snuck up behind her, ordered a Shirley Temple and Cuba libre.

“Hola, señora Blansh,” Diego said.

Blanche took a seat, ignored him, and began to drink her water. She knew Diego was drunk when he slurred her name, looked at her with glossy eyes, and smelled like he drank copious Cuba libres. The bartender placed the two drinks in front of Diego who conveniently passed Blanche’s drink next to her water.

“Diego, you’re pushing your luck,” Blanche said.

Diego placed his hand on her leg, “I like to push something else mi amor Blansh.”

Blanche thought about Darren’s comments and lightly laughed. She moved his hand away and the drink in front of her. Diego drank his first drink and was stirring the lime in the second one. He rubbed the back of his neck and let his hand slide down her back. Blanche moved his hand to his drink and without hesitation, he started to drink.

Blanche opened her purse to pay when she remembered the cannabis butter. “You know what I would love to do Diego?” Blanche asked.

“Wha Blansh,” Diego said.

“Make you a batch of brownies,” Blanche said.

“Ok, si si, yes yes, les do it now… Listen Blansh, I am running this event. I got that kitchen for whatever I want. This is wha the (he paused), I no remember what I need to say,” Diego said.

She paid for the drinks and he escorted her to the kitchen. There in the kitchen she located the ingredients to the make the brownies. Blanche preheated the oven while Diego sat on a stool drinking and rambling away in a monologue about the lonely life of an Argentine lover.

II

Darren woke up late in the morning and rushed across the street for the contest. He arrived at the convention center and took his table near Blanche. He acknowledged that they were neighbors with a laugh and said hello. Then he grabbed his apron and walked over to her table.

“How are you feeling?” Blanche asked with a smile.

“I feel like a million boxes,” Darren said as he put on his apron. “And do you know what is inside each of those boxes?”

“No,” Blanche answered.

“A million dollars,” Darren said. “Now ask me, how do I feel?”

“How do you feel?” Blanche said.

“Like a million bucks.” Darren said as they both laughed.

“You’re loony Darren,” Blanch said.

“Blanche, didn’t you come over because of your air condition, right?” Darren asked.

“I did, but I solved that problem. I slept great last night—cool and comfortable,” Blanche said.

“Okay… but I thought,” Darren was interrupted by an announcement.

“Good Morning. We hope everyone is great and ready to bake. We are running a tad late,” said one the six judges before Diego walked to the podium.

“Good morning and how is everyone?” Diego’s accent was heavy as he slowly told the contestants about their allotted time, then continued, “Señoras and señors, ladies and gentlemen, good luck and—”

All the judges stood behind Diego and loudly said through a megaphone: “Let the competition commence!” Diego almost fell from the high pitch as everyone laughed.

Darren’s girlfriend arrived for the event. He told her that she could hang out in his room until the judging started because attendees were not permitted in the competition area. When she arrived in his room, she noticed that his cooler was partially opened. The cannabis butter Darren brought for her was melted. She was upset that he left it opened, and then she recalled that he said there were four sticks.

His girlfriend arrived for the judging, told him about the butter mishap, but that she was excited to be there. As they were prepared to enter the banquet hall, she asked him if he used the fourth stick for the contest. At first, he laughed then it dawned on him that he offered Blanche a stick.

Darren stopped in the middle of the line to search for Blanche among the contestants, no luck. He rushed back to Blanche’s table and discretely pulled out the small plastic garbage container. He was in shock when he saw the wax paper in the small garbage container. His eyes were as big as his mouth as he stood in disbelief.

Darren scanned the competition area for Blanche, still no luck. He heard the audience applaud as the judges were taking their positions at the table. He ran back and his girlfriend was waiting for him. They entered again and he located Blanche sitting in the back row.

“Blanche I’m sorry, but I need to tell you that there was cannabis in the butter,” Darren said.

Blanche looked at Darren and his girlfriend, “Sweetie, you must have been higher than a kite. Of course I knew what it was. I use it all the time, well, not the butter, but the cannabis oil. What do you think because I am old that I don’t use marijuana, or for that matter, know what ‘C-butter’ is? This old body wants to feel good and fresh,” Blanche said with a wink.

“But you used the whole stick for your chocolate cake?” Darren asked.

“No,” Blanche said

“Ok,” Darren said then wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Just a quarter of it,” Blanche said.

“Where? In the cake?” Darren asked.

“No, honey, of course not,” Blanche said and then she gave a nod toward Diego. Darren followed Blanche’s nod and then looked at her. Blanche was smiling as she turned her focus back to the podium where Diego was about to announce the results.

“You gave it to Diego, but how?” Darren asked.

“I went to the bar for a cold glass of water after leaving your room,” Blanche said.

“You were in his room?” Darren’s girlfriend said.

“Don’t worry honey, Darren was too high for me to take advantage of him,” Blanche said as all three laughed lightly.

“Diego kept on bothering me while he was getting drunk. Understand, I am a widower, but single as well. Diego is an old fart, well, older. You know I sat down for just a drink and he put his hand on my leg and wouldn’t let go. So I told him that I would make my special brownies for him if he gave me access to the kitchen. The brownies cooled as I slept in his air-conditioned room,” Blanche said.

All three giggled as the awards were presented.

Neither Blanche nor Darren won the contest, but in his closing statement, Diego added: “I want to congratulate the winners once more. Also, I would like to thank Blanche Gatto for making me her special brownies (he started to giggle). I’m certain the judges do not have room after tasting all of these delicious desserts. However, (he gave a hardy laugh which made the crowd laugh as well) I will probably eat two more. Where is Blanche? (She raised her hand in the back.) You should have entered these in the contest. (Just then two of the judges reached onto the plate and grabbed her brownies.) Let’s celebrate!” A festoon of balloons fell from the ceiling of the banquet hall as Blanche and Darren laughed while Diego laughed uncontrollably with his hands hitting the balloons into the crowd.

Blanche Gatto’s Baked Goods is a winning entry for the 24 Hour Short Story Summer 2017 contest.

“What is unusual in Miami…? Everything is unusual.” No one other than Marshall Boyd, author of the Falk McCoy mystery series, can mirror the Magic City’s crime, passion, and diversity.

Faker, Death of a Dead Man, Miami Lovers, Wanton Needs, and Rue are perfect novels for those who have a penchant of the Mystery genre.

Faker

Marshall Boyd is a prolific and meticulous story-teller in this murder mystery based in Miami. Falk McCoy, the tough as nails and tenacious detective takes the reader for an investigation of gruesome killings. Falk McCoy’s every move from Miami to the Everglades is captivating. As the story evolves you begin to appreciate the relationships of the characters. Boyd develops each of the individuals for the reader to understand their strengths and weaknesses. You feel the richness of Miami, from the people who Falk McCoy encounters, to the Cuban influence that makes Miami unique. You’ll find yourself thirsty for a café con leche and thirsty for the next Falk McCoy mystery. I strongly recommend Faker to those who love a great mystery.

This was the first book by Marshall Boyd in the trilogy of the Falk McCoy mystery series. Boyd’s second book, Death of a Dead Man, and his most recent installment, Miami Lovers are both excellent mysteries.

Death of a Dead Man

“What is unusual in Miami…? Everything is unusual,” Orlando Mano tells Falk McCoy on a corner street at his fruit stand near the Glades Hotel.“Death of a Dead Man” is Marshall Boyd’s second book in the Falk McCoy Mystery series. It is the prequel to “Faker” and it offers the reader an inside look at Boyd’s characters. “Faker” is a great mystery that stands on its own two feet. “Death of a Dead Man” compliments his first book. McCoy’s rough exterior and side winding sarcasm continues to thrive in this story.

We also see the relationship develop between McCoy and Detective Buckley with their association of being in the police academy. In this story Falk’s soon to be ex-wife becomes a pivotal tool. As the relationship wanes with Jessie, he realizes she not his love, but someone else’s lover. This dichotomy between his past with her and his need to keep her safe is now challenged by the Mob’s female assistant.

Philadelphia to Miami, McCoy travels to search into the past of a Senate inquiry involving several Mafioso. Falk goes to the City of Brotherly Love to gather information about the mysterious death of Willy Brandt, who rented an office in the Glades Hotel. After some research he returns to Miami and finds himself caught in the middle of the Mafioso with two Mobsters.

“Death of a Dead Man” is a stupendous mystery story. Marshall Boyd’s method of prolific writing is very meticulous and descriptive. Boyd offers the reader an exclusive look into the scene of manipulating Mobsters in Miami. He tells the story so you can sense the talking, walking, and at times the beat down of Falk McCoy.
I recommend “Death of a Dead Man,“ in the Falk McCoy Mystery series to all those who want a refreshing investigative story. Everything is unusual in Miami and Marshall Boyd’s story is a pure reflection of the Magic City.

Miami Lovers

Falk McCoy sits in repose on a park bench in Bicentennial Park thinking about romance. Love all around in the park and love abound in the city. He takes the moment to reflect about his one love.

One love, however pure and passionate the moment exists – will not be his only focus. For Falk McCoy, the Glades Hotel detective, it will be the broad avenues of love that he will take to investigate another mystery.

Miami Lovers is the third book in the Falk McCoy mystery series written by Marshall Boyd. The story is an excellent read on the city and the people of Miami. The locality for the setting of the story allows you to interact through Falk with Miami’s Latin culture.

Falk is once again home sweet home in the Glades Hotel. And Garcia, the manager of the Glades Hotel, ask his hotel detective and part-time investigator to meet with a wealthy Bolivian who has rented out the entire 12th floor. Vaso, the Bolivian businessman, is in need to inquire about a love interest in the name of Deborah Cushman, a fashion designer.

As Falk McCoy investigates Deborah Cushman, he learns there is more than love at stake for Vaso. The issues that Falk learns stretch from Miami to New York, and to Cuba. The engaging storyline keeps you in toe with McCoy as he reveals the truths about Vaso.

Marshall Boyd offers the reader a taste of Miami in two forms: One is the taste of Palomino steaks and El Presidente beer; sweet Latin pastries and café cubano. The other taste is that of the women chosen by Vaso’s security guard known as “Eye patch” and McCoy’s security employee for the Glades Hotel named, Cordoso. Both men choose a Brazilian named Christina who will disappoint and surprise them.

Even Falk McCoy receives a surprise from his one love – Mystel. She returns in an important role in the book. The two of them engage from a rendezvous to a risky situation.

The characters in Miami Lovers have very strong personalities. Boyd’s dialogue between these characters delivers a formidable sequence of events.

Falk McCoy tells Diego Vaso in their initial meeting that is an underlining theme in the story. “Love isn’t easily concealed, if this is your secret, I’m sure others are aware.”

Miami Lovers is the story about the love of relationships, greed, and power.

Wanton Needs

Coffee is like a bad woman, rough on the nerves, but good for the spirit—Falk McCoy

Wanton Needs, the fourth book by author Marshall Boyd of the Falk McCoy Mystery series, begins at the familiar Glades Hotel and then crisscrosses Miami by covering the cultures and countries that are the identity of the Magic City.

At Amantes, a supper club located on the second floor of the Glades Hotel, Garcia (owner of the hotel) and Mystel (Falk’s lover and proprietor of the supper club) are joined by Falk (the Glades hotel detective and private investigator) to speak with a hotel guest named, Juan Ortega. In a discussion over café con leche, Ortega, who is a diamond dealer, tells Falk that he has a surplus of cash from his business, specifically from his business partner. This cash flow raises a red flag in Ortega’s mind, but a suspicious sign to Falk. He tells Falk that his partner, Armando Arturo, may have surreptitious motives. Thus, the investigation begins in Miami’s cultural corners, leads to Cuba, Columbia, and finally back to Miami.

The storyline is about a diamond dealer doing wrong and Falk’s investigation to find the truth. The truth is subjected to Falk’s actions, and this detective shows no slowing down to uncover the mystery of the money. There are no lacunae in this story that entails, as Boyd wrote in his synopsis, ‘lies, lust and louts.’ Falk McCoy starts from the misinformation of whose stealing the money, the Haitian lady laying down her judgement, and the many criminals he encounters are just a few examples.

We are introduced to a new character named, ‘The Old Cuban’ who has a connection to Cuba and Falk’s lineage. Tom Buckley of the Miami Police Department and his ex-wife Jessie are familiar characters who return in Wanton Needs. Regardless if you’ve read Boyd’s first three novels, Death of a Dead Man, Faker, or Miami Lovers, although I encourage you to do so, he always provides the reader with a prolific character description.

These concise caffeinated chapters will fill your needs like strong shots of Café Cubano. Wanton Needs provides the play of power, the bloody side of crime, and the perils of being a private investigator. I compared Marshall Boyd’s novel, Death of a Dead Man to Wanton Needs. In that novel, Falk McCoy, who travelled to Philadelphia as part of his investigation, was reminiscent to a Mickey Spillane character while in the City of Brotherly Love. However, the Falk McCoy in Wanton Needs, who travelled to Cuba and Columbia, is all Marshall Boyd.

Rue

Rue is the fifth installment of the Falk McCoy Mystery Series. Since 2012’s breakout book, Faker, Marshall Boyd has delivered to his readers an anthology of prolific private investigator novels. If you’re not a Falk McCoy fan, then I recommend you check into the Glades Hotel in Miami. This is a place where patrons cajole the hard-boiled hotel detective with their investigations while conspiring behind his back. The chronological order of Boyd’s books is: Death of a Dead Man, Faker, Miami Lovers, Wanton Needs, and his current book, Rue. You will be enticed by the mean streets of the Magic City to follow McCoy in a vicarious manner as a consummate companion.

Boyd’s pathos and ethos of Rue are parlayed from a mystery to a whodunit. Aptly put, Rue is a dramatic novel because his characters from the first four novels are interlaced with the Freidmans, a large family, and their friends and foes. The characters in Rue are presented in a format for the reader as if you knew them. Rue is not a reproduction of the last book, nor the previous books. It is a progression in the lives of Falk and his associates. The conclusion will call you back to an earlier time in detective genres, yet Boyd’s modern methods balance the twist of a whodunit.

Marshall Boyd’s background beckoned Falk McCoy: Growing up in Dunlap, TN, after WWII with his large family that dealt with economic strife and personal hardships; He went from the fields of Vietnam to studying in the fields of photography and nursing in Miami in the early 1970’s. Eventually, he became an emergency room nurse during the 1980’s. Boyd’s vocation as a writer began in the early 1990’s as a witness to the previous decade: Miami evolved from a sleepy lawn chair laden beach town for retirees to a multi-cultural metropolis of new immigrants, mostly Cubans. Furthermore, he witnessed the peaceful-polis turn to a cocaine crawling, mass murder capital, with hedonistic howls.

Falk McCoy is every bit a bundle of Boyd’s convention: The crucible of war and crime; The crucible of photographs and fatalities; The crucible of recording, documenting, and writing a story about crimes in the Magic City, where murder is a dirge for only a day. And this is why you must read Marshall Boyd’s books—to experience an intriguing timeline beyond the banner.

Dopefiend, Whoreson, and White Man’s Justice, Black Man’s Grief are what Greg Goode of the University of Rochester called, “A new fictional genre…ghetto realism.”

Dopefiend

Raw. This is the word that describes Dopefiend. Based in a Detroit ghetto, Goines tells you the story about his experiences as an addict. He places the reader in very uncomfortable situations: junkies getting their fix, prostitutes with their “johns,” and the use of heroine being cooked up. Goines hits you with the needle that leaves a mark in your psyche.

Like any great novel, the unexpected is vital. In Dopefiend, the unexpected is deliberately disturbing. There are very few characters in this novel, but they impact each chapter.

Porky, the dealer, controls the highs and lows of his junkies with the quality of his white powder. Terry, a junkie, uses his girlfriend and friends just to get a fix. Terry, Teddy’s girl, becomes her parents worst nightmare as the story progresses: Their beautiful girl turned addict.

As the junkies need their fix, (to get better, or just to get by), Goines vicariously makes you feel their predicament. You’re in the middle of the inner city circle of death. Horrifying, but real.

I recommend this Dopefiend by Donald Goines: An extraordinary story of the ordinary life of a hardcore junkie. Most importantly, this book is Raw.

Whoreson

I have read two prior books by Goines: Dopefiend and White Man’s Justice, Black Man’s Grief. Both books were raw and intense because of the time and space Goines’ establishes. After I read the synopsis on the back cover of Whoreson, I was prepared to go back to the inner-city. However, I was not prepared for the vernacular of the ghetto in the form of ‘gritty street talk’ and the vulgarity backed up with physical brutality. Typical of Goines’ other novels, you are lead vicariously through the story with one character’s intentions and unforeseen circumstances. In Whoreson, however, the main character is a sixteen year old pimp.

Whoreson Jones was born to be a pimp. From the womb of a prostitute named Jessie, to taking her ‘trap’ money while Jessie worked streets for ‘tricks.’ This was the education that his mom planned out for Whoreson. At sixteen, he was on the streets and out of school, just what Jessie wanted for her son.

The real life of pimping and copping women to be his prostitutes leads to many contemptuous corners in the novel. By the time you reach the middle of the book, you feel as if you’ve witnessed two points: a trifling of compassion and a great deal of despondent situations.

This is where the explosion of Whoreson really happens. The unpredictable elements of Whoreson Jones and his prostitutes are riveting. Donald Goines, once again, tells the reader the point of view from the slum level of the inner-city ghetto.

Near the conclusion of Whoreson, you sense that a change might occur for Whoreson Jones. Perhaps he will get away from the slums and make it in a new environment. You question yourself for the actions that he takes to achieve this goal. And then you realize that you finished another excellent story by Donald Goines.

White Man’s Justice, Black Man’s Grief

An Angry Preface “There are cases of people…spending more than a year in county jails simply because they couldn’t raise bail-bond money.”

“I’m speaking for the people who picked up on the streets or stopped for minor traffic violations…simply because the arresting policeman doesn’t like their skin color or the way they walk or talk or dress or wear their hair.”

Donald Goines tells you from the ‘Angry Preface’ that the money involved in the bail-bond’s business are enough to leave a person for an extended amount of time in jail. He also informs you about the bigotry of some officials when it comes to arresting a person first on their appearance.

Behind bars is where Goines places you. You begin to step in a black man’s outlook of imprisonment as seen through the eyes of Chester Hines.

Everything is left on the cell floor those awaiting a trial, everything. Rules are made by those who don’t have fear. Chester and another man he befriends, Willie keep their ground because of mental toughness. The fear of losing their ground to another man is tested. In fact, it is the fear that is placed with the men in while they are locked up. The fear: food being taking away from another man, not having a bunk to sleep on, sodomy and rape. The fear of a judge giving you a higher sentence because you are black.

I was not prepared for what happened to Chester Hines in the conclusion of “White Man’s Justice, Black Man’s Grief.” This is attributed to Donald Goines’ method of writing: keeping you contained with the hope of one character, and changing their outcome.

Brace yourself the bold talk and the brash actions. This is another hardcore novel like Dopefeind in the idea that a central character, like Chester engrosses you. Chapter by chapter Donald Goines makes the turnkey open your mind to a gripping story.